a sprinkling of bells
esh au masterlist
hi my name is mas tomorrowshow and i love libraries
cw: implied/referenced past abuse
this story takes place approximately two months after the end of 'poisoned rats'.
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Jimmy mills around a little, kicking at the carpet of the library. Scott’s here for a class on how to write sonnets. Jimmy doesn’t even know what a sonnet is but Scott was excited, and he hasn’t been in a library in a long time, so he doesn’t mind waiting.
For the first twenty minutes, Jimmy sits at the table Scott left him at and glances around, too nervous to actually get up and do anything. It’s only when a young woman with a library badge asks him if he needs anything that Jimmy realizes he’s been sitting here for so long.
“I haven’t been to a library since I was a teenager,” he confesses, glancing to the curtained-off place where Scott is learning about sonnets. “I’m here with my partner, and . . . and I’m not sure what to do while I wait for him.”
She smiles kindly, asks him to follow, and walks away. Jimmy does, and he finds himself on a tour of the library and its services. There’s a section for computers, and non-fiction works, and fiction works, and kids books and toys for kids and teen books and board games and so very much that Jimmy finds it a bit overwhelming. He ends up in a seating area where most people are reading or doing homework with a puzzle in front of him, one that’s already partially completed by whoever sat here before him.
It’s actually really nice. Jimmy hasn’t done a puzzle in as long as he hasn’t been to a library, and he finds himself wanting one of his own to put together at home, maybe with Scott. He sits there for a while, entirely focused on completing the flower to the left of the piece, when there’s a pale hand reaching beside him to place a totally different piece and he looks up to see Scott.
“All done with your program?” Jimmy asks, checking his watch. He’s been sitting at this puzzle for half an hour, but he doesn’t remember dissociating. Maybe he did. He’s not sure. Maybe he just got really wrapped up in it.
“Yep. Having fun?”
Jimmy nods absently, spotting the piece he’s been looking for. He slots it into place, grins at the fulfilling satisfaction. “This place is big,” he adds, setting down the pieces in his hand. “It’s a lot. But I like it. I like doing puzzles.”
“That’s great.” Scott smiles softly at him, then leans forward for a quick kiss. “I’ve got some holds to pick up. Is there anything you’d like to check out?”
“No,” Jimmy shrugs. “I never really liked reading. I don’t think I ever went to the school library for anything, other than when your freshman homeroom teacher has to show you all the resources and whatever. I just never saw the point.”
“I didn’t really go to the library much until I was on my own,” Scott says after a moment. “The school one censored just about everything, and I only ever went to the public library to get Adventures in Odyssey.” he grimaces, and Jimmy doesn’t ask about whatever that is. It’s clearly a sore topic. “But libraries saved me when I was a teenager. I practically lived in them. There’s so many librarians who helped me get back on my feet, even if they don’t know it.”
The look in Scott’s eye is far away, and Jimmy elects not to ask more. Instead, he picks up his backpack from where he’d propped it against his legs and stands, follows Scott to some shelves in the back where the books lining them have big white stickers over the spines. Weird choice, really. How are people meant to read the title?
“These are the holds,” Scott tells him, scanning the shelves until he finds the book he’s looking for and shows it to Jimmy. “They put a sticker with the first four letters of your last name and the first four digits of your card number on whatever item you put on hold online.”
It’s a big architecture book, some sort of bridge on the cover. Jimmy doesn’t quite see the appeal of it, but he wanders along behind Scott as he approaches the front desk to check out, glancing around at the shelves.
There’s a sci-fi display, a romance display, and a display all about grilling cookbooks, which seems rather niche but there’s a good thirty cookbooks filling the stand. He never knew there could be so many books. He browses them absently, and as he reaches to read the back of one of the sci-fi books that has an interesting cover, he freezes.
A book on the romance display catches his eye.
He recognizes that cover.
It’s a woman with brown hair in an emerald green dress, clinging to a cheesily handsome man with his puffy white shirt half-open. A Night With the Prince, the title reads.
Trance-like, Jimmy picks it up. Turns it over. Stares at the two reviews on the back. There’s a tagline in the same dramatic font as the cover.
Emily doesn’t know what she’s getting into with this arrogant, handsome stranger . . . !
This is his book. This is his book.
His hands shake. He never finished it, did he? He’d woken up one day back on the table being cut into, and when they eventually brought him back to the observation room, the books were gone.
And now here it is.
“Want to laugh at a trashy romance together?”
Scott’s voice snaps him out of it, and he glances between the book and Scott’s teasing smirk, before hurriedly placing it back on the stand. The burst of adrenaline at having to hide it, no one can know he cares about it, it’s just a stupid book he isn’t attached to a book it’s fine—sends every book on the display (and the sci-fi display next to it) toppling over.
Scott swears and drops to the floor, scrambling to pick up the books. Jimmy stands, frozen in place, as a librarian jogs over to help as well. It doesn’t take long to fix, but Jimmy can feel the shame searing into his very soul.
“Were you wanting this?” the librarian asks, holding up his—the book.
“No, I—no,” Jimmy says, glancing furtively at Scott. Not furtively enough, apparently, because Scott picks it right back up off the display as soon as the librarian returns to xyr work.
“Do you want it?” he asks softly.
His face is still red from the whole ordeal, and he feels it heat a bit more as Scott steps closer, book in hand. “I—I haven’t got a library card,” he stutters, shrugging. “I can’t. It doesn’t matter.”
Scott waves him off. “I can check it out, don’t worry about it.” He hesitates. “Is—is there something else you want to talk about?”
It had been a fairly strong reaction for being caught looking at a book, hadn’t it? Jimmy just shakes his head. After a moment, Scott—carefully, gently—wraps Jimmy in a hug, pressing his face into his shoulder.
Jimmy melts into the touch. Scott loves him. A book isn’t going to change that. Causing an accident isn’t going to change that.
“I’m gonna go check it out,” Scott tells him, pulling back. “And . . . sorry. If I made you feel like . . . I don’t know. Be right back.”
Jimmy hadn’t even said yes.
Three minutes later finds them in the car, Scott checking his rearview mirror to make sure his hair is all still pinned up under his boring brown wig.
Jimmy turns the book over in his hands, fingers tracing over the embossed title, the creases in the corners of the paperback cover.
If Scott notices him crying, he doesn’t say anything.
(And later, when they get home, Jimmy finishes the book.)
(And Emily marries her arrogant, handsome prince.)
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